


Dear McCracken

by nextdoorCanine



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Fluff, Humanstuck, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Trans Dave Strider, both karkat and kanaya are poc, kk and dave are pen pals, rosemary is eventual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24723724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nextdoorCanine/pseuds/nextdoorCanine
Summary: writing “letters” to a stranger on the internet wasn’t exactly at the top of karkat’s to do list, but he supposed there are worse ways to be spending his free time.or:karkat is signed up for an anonymous pen pal program as a part of his mandatory anger management therapy and finds that maybe being someone’s pen pal isn’t as bad as he thought.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Dear McCracken

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO the idea for this came to me while listening to Dear McCracken by Bug Hunter, which is where the title comes from. this is the first time i’ve written a fic that i’m genuinely proud of but please feel free to let me know if something doesn’t sound right or needs a little tlc
> 
> shoutout to my boyfriend for proofreading this

Honestly and truly, Karkat is fed up. With almost everything, really. But in particular, he is fed up with coloring in circles and lines and calling it therapy. His therapist forces him to do it on his “bad days” and quite frankly he has far too many of those for him to continue to enjoy doing childish paperwork. Who the fuck needs “healthy coping mechanisms” anyway? He was perfectly content taking his frustrations out by yelling until his voice was hoarse or aimlessly stomping around his therapists office in an attempt to calm down. Now, however, his therapist has thankfully noticed his distaste for cheerful worksheets and has suggested a new project.

“You want me to start writing to a pen pal? Me? The guy who can hardly fucking stand anyone on the entire planet other than my best friend? Yeah, right.” He barks out a laugh and crosses his arms.

His therapist lifts an eyebrow in amusement. “You’ll never have to physically interact with this person and given that the communication is through a website, you will have plenty of time to type and retype whatever you wish to tell them. It’s harder for you to be mean when you have the ability to think out what it is you’re going to say.”

She’s smiling, that _bitch_. He feigns offense.

“I am _not_ mean, I just… Have a harder time telling what will hurt a person’s feelings and what won’t.” As much as he hates to admit it, he does tend to act like an asshole. At all times. But for good reason! High school seniors are a pain in the ass and most of the time they deserve the insults he hurls.

“Regardless,” she says slowly. “I really think you’ll enjoy it. And if you don’t, no harm done. We can find something else to do, like yoga.”

Karkat groans. _Yoga? Who the fuck does she think he is?_

“Fine.”

• • •

He regrets agreeing almost immediately. It’s hard enough for him to speak to people face to face, but now he has to deal with the taunting, blinking cursor reminding him that he has spent the last hour staring at a blank white screen. His randomly generated username glares at him from its permanent position at the bottom of the screen. _carcinoGeneticist_. He supposed there are worse names to have been given, like the one his pen pal has for example: _turntechGodhead_. Jesus, he doesn’t even know the person and yet Karkat can tell the dude is likely a douchebag. He harshly reminds himself that the usernames aren’t chosen, but still. Probably an asshole. He roughly drags his hands down his face and unceremoniously plops them into his lap. A groan escapes his lips. At this rate, he’ll never even get the first letter sent out. And then what? He’ll spend the next half dozen therapy sessions talking about his poor anger management skills and lack of proper coping skills until his therapist inevitably decides on yet another stupid way to curb stomp his god awful attitude.

“Alright, Vantas, get your shit together.” He gives his head a good shake and then gently places his fingers on his desk. Out of the corner of his eye he spots an additional tab connected to his pen pal’s profile. Underneath the link to their email address labelled “About”. Part of him wants to ignore it in favor of continuing the facade of him not caring about the whole situation, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he clicks it. He’s met with yet another boring white screen, only this time there is a small clump of text typed with an extremely annoying red color. He only skims the blurb, not at all wanting to hear the guy’s life story, but he does manage to catch information that will likely aid him in coming up with conversation topics. He learns that his pen pal is, in fact, a guy, and that he is the same age as Karkat: 18. There isn’t much else of interest (other than a brief description of his hobbies which unfortunately include rapping and beatboxing) and nothing that could give away his identity. Karkat supposes he should likely fill out his own about tab, but decides it isn't worth his time. “TurntechGodhead” can figure out his personality on his own.

“DEAR IDIOT WITH A TERRIBLE USERNAME, DID YOU GET ROPED INTO THIS SHIT TOO? WERE YOU ALSO THREATENED WITH MORE COLORING AND THE EVER LOOMING THREAT OF BULLET JOURNALS? I WILL BE HONEST WITH YOU, THIS FUCKING BLOWS. AM I ALLOWED TO CUSS IN THESE? WILL ANYONE OTHER THAN US EVEN READ THEM? DOUBTFUL. OH, YOU MAY BE WONDERING (GIVEN THAT YOUR BRAIN IS NOT TOO SMALL TO COMPREHEND THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN CONSTANT CAPITALIZATION AND CONSTANT LOWERCASE LETTERS) WHY I AM TYPING THIS WAY. I FEEL AS THOUGH TYPING IN ALL CAPS GIVES YOU A BETTER FEEL FOR THE TYPE OF PERSON I AM AND ALSO FORCES YOU TO PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT I’M SAYING. ALSO, MY CAPS LOCK KEY IS BROKEN. I’LL BE HONEST WITH YOU. I’M NOT ENTIRELY SURE WHAT I AM SUPPOSED TO BE SAYING TO YOU. ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DUMP ALL OF OUR TRAUMA OUT FOR EACH OTHER IN A SORRY ATTEMPT AT RELATING TO ONE ANOTHER OR IS THE GOAL TO BECOME FRIENDS. EITHER WAY, I GUESS I WILL LEAVE THE TOPIC OF OUR FIRST CONVERSATION UP TO YOU. UNTIL THEN, -carcinoGeneticist” 

Karkat deflates into his desk chair. He’s written C level essays better than this. Before he can give himself the opportunity to delete everything and forget about the project completely, he hits send. With any luck, the guy will take days to respond and give Karkat enough time to grieve his own startling awkwardness. Much to his dismay, a response arrives in his inbox mere moments later. What the fuck?

“jesus dude i didnt realize we were supposed to send messages longer than your moms dick.” 

Karkat snorts out a laugh.

“i just figured we would chat it up a couple of times and end it there. wasnt expecting to have to spill all my secrets to some random ass dude i met on the internet. but shit if thats what you want, thats fine by me. im only doing this to appease my Bro, who thinks i spend too much time writing songs and drawing comics and not enough time making friends. i do have friends though dude, dont get it twisted. well its that and also because ive got killer fuckin adhd that makes me a “menace to society” and “annoying”. my teachers words, not mine. my ego is far too large to say that shit about myself bro anyways you in highschool too? gonna be honest with you man itll be weird as shit if i ever find out that youre secretly some 40 year old man though i guess thats kind of impossible given that this site is for “therapy” 

The message doesn’t last much longer than that, but for some reason Karkat feels compelled to know more about the stranger. Maybe it's the fact that he wasn't immediately blocked or straight up ignored, but he thinks that maybe he will enjoy their correspondence. Maybe eventually he can also learn to live with the idiots sorry excuse for a typing style and lack of any proper grammar.

And if he falls asleep several messages later with a smile on his face, well, that’s no ones business but his own.


End file.
